Cardcaptor Hermione
by The Inimitable DA
Summary: Hermione discovers a mysterious magical book that grants her powers beyond anything she has ever imagined before. Why has she been chosen to wield them? And more importantly, what is she supposed to do with them? Based on Cardcaptor Sakura. Eventual R/H.
1. Hermione and The Mysterious Magical Arte...

***  
  
Cardcaptor Hermione (1/?)  
  
***  
  
  
Author: DarkAngel (d_angel@fsmail.net)  
  
Date: Uploaded April 29, 2002. Originally written January 2002.   
  
Category: Action/Adventure, Romance  
  
Rating: PG-13. This may change later on.  
  
Archive: R/H Archive. Other places, please ask.   
  
Spoilers: All four books, though I'm not sure how yet.   
  
***  
  
Disclaimers: The works of J.K. Rowling and CLAMP are not mine. I'm merely borrowing them to fulfill some twisted fantasies of mine. But then again, aren't we all? ;)  
  
Summary: Hermione discovers a mysterious magical book that grants her powers beyond anything she has ever imagined before. Why has she been chosen to wield them? And more importantly, what is she supposed to do with them? Based loosely on Cardcaptor Sakura (http://sakura.belldandy.net). Very eventual R/H, but you're going to have to wait for it, as this is an adventure story first, and a romance second.   
  
***  
  
A long time ago, there lived a man named Clow Reed. Born of an   
English father and Chinese mother, he was one of the greatest   
magicians the world had seen. During his life, he created a new   
branch of magic. In days of old, sorcerers trained as apprentices   
of certain magical houses, before becoming full fledged members   
of that house. Rarely did they dabble in magic other than their   
own.   
  
Clow Reed changed all that. Blending the traditional Eastern   
and Western styles of magic, he created something that was   
uniquely his own. One of the greatest surviving pieces of evidence   
was thought to be missing for a long time, until it was uncovered   
by a team of archaeologists centuries later. This artefact, a   
book, could only be unlocked when the right heir had come along.   
  
In the closing days of the 20th century, a young woman by the   
name of Hermione Granger discovered the book, and this is her   
story.   
  
Hermione Granger had been born into an ordinary home to   
ordinary parents (for indeed, dentists are some of the most   
ordinary people you can find, accountants aside) and raised   
during the later years of her childhood and adolescence in a   
world which prepared her well for the magical journey she was   
about to embark upon.   
  
It was an usually sunny day in Scotland where our story   
begins. A small hamlet could be spied over the hill, a well worn   
footpath leading to it from a copse of trees. From out of the   
forest, a tall woman stepped out, carrying a battered suitcase.   
  
Hermione Granger blinked against the morning sunlight and   
hefted her case to her other hand, shielding her face with her   
right. The village wasn't too far away. If she walked quickly,   
she could make it before the eight o'clock owl. She set   
herself onto the dusty footpath, and entered the village of Moray   
Woe.   
  
The main road was lined with an eclectic collection of shops.   
A butcher's shop was located right across the street from a tea   
room in which one could get their fortune told. Hermione clucked   
her tongue; she didn't hold with divination, but people flocked   
there on a daily basis regardless. Beside the tea shop was a   
small grocery store and Hermione entered.   
  
Grabbing a basket, she made her way quickly and methodically   
down the aisles and paid the cashier. Her arms laden with bags   
and a suitcase, Hermione came to a stop in front of a low brick   
flat. A neat stack of firewood was piled by the door and the   
grass was beginning to take on a life of its own. Hermione was   
sure she could hear the light giggles of gnomes in the grass.   
  
It took a creative shifting of packages in her arms to get her   
door open, and she fumbled with her wand to lock the door behind   
her. Although magical intruders were rare, one could never be too   
careful. Shuffling to the kitchen, Hermione deposited her   
packages on the counter, laid her suitcase on the floor and   
sighed.   
  
She was home at last.   
  
Shrugging her shoulders to get some feeling back into them,   
Hermione started unpacking her groceries. She was right in the   
middle of putting jars of marmalade in the pantry when a series   
of taps came at her window. She turned around. A snowy white owl   
was outside, a message tied to its leg.   
  
Hermione hurried to the window and yanked it open, noting the   
cracking noise it made as it did so. The owl flew in with a   
flutter of feathers and settled onto the perch she kept for such   
occasions. It stuck its leg out and waited patiently for Hermione   
to relieve it of its message.   
  
Hermione stroked the owl absently as she undid the string   
tying the note. "Hello, Hedwig," she murmured.   
  
Hedwig hooted softly in reply and clicked her beak.   
  
Hermione finally managed to undo the string and unrolled the   
parchment. She skimmed the message and smiled.   
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
I hope you've come home by the time this message reaches   
you. Ron and I are meeting at Florean Fortescue's later this   
afternoon. We're hoping you can make it. We're also having a   
get together at the Burrow next week. Let us know if you can   
come.  
  
Harry   
  
Hermione grabbed a quill and dipped it into an ink bottle. She   
penned her response and sent Hedwig on her way. Just as she was   
about to close the window, she spied another owl swooping towards   
her house.   
  
This owl landed on the perch and waited, its chest puffed out   
proudly. She recognized it at once. She took the heavy   
parchment from its leg.   
  
Dear Ms Granger,   
  
I hope this message finds you well. Your findings arrived   
on my desk this very moment, and I am confident (from what I have   
seen thus far) that they will be most enlightening...  
  
The message carried on in that vein for quite some time.   
Hermione's boss was something of a windbag.   
  
...assignment also happened across my desk today, one I think   
you would be delighted to take. There is a site some distance   
south of your home that may have been home to foreign wizards.   
The origins appear to be Chinese. If you wish to take this   
assignment, please owl me at your earliest convenience. We have   
acquired the services of a Chinese interpreter for your team to   
consult with.   
  
Sincerely,   
  
Tabor Fayla (director)  
  
Hermione's heart did a little jump. This was the chance of a   
lifetime! Foreign wizarding settlements in other countries   
weren't all that common, much less Chinese settlements in Great   
Britain! She picked up her traveling cloak and wand. With a faint   
pop, she Disapparated, her kitchen window creaking to and fro in   
the empty room.   
  
***  
  
The home of Tabor Fayla was a large if paradoxically modest   
building. Made of cobbled stone, it was surrounded by iron gates.   
The path leading to the dwelling was made of the same cobbled   
stone material as the house, and stone birdbaths adorned various   
parts of the lush front garden. However, the gate hung open, a   
rusting chain attached to one end. The birdbaths were filled with   
leaves, twigs and the occasional floating insect (and were also   
devoid of birds), and leaning against the peeling brown front   
door was a rusting poker. Here and there crooked trees with   
gnarled branches twisted with the slightest wind.   
  
Hermione approached the door and knocked.  
  
A scuffle, and the door opened. The poker fell and landed with  
a loud noise on the marble entryway. Fayla didn't seem to mind in  
the least.   
  
"Ms Granger! Oh, do come in, come in! Mind the poker there.   
Would you like some tea?"  
  
As he was saying all this, he replaced the poker back to its   
previous place by the door with his wand. Hermione raised her   
eyebrows but said nothing. She settled for waiting patiently   
instead, and was rewarded a moment later when Fayla grinned and   
gestured, his arms thrown wide.  
  
"Please take a seat! Here, let me show you to the parlour.  
Take some tea, what will you have?"  
  
"Er, some cream please." Hermione sat down in Fayla's   
parlour, a white painted room with several different clocks   
adorning the walls. A collection of smaller clocks crowded the   
window ledge. Checking the nearest one, a fat red clock with one   
yellow arm, she saw that it was pointed to "Tea with Ms Granger".   
Obviously she had been expected.   
  
She settled herself into a padded white wicker chair just as   
Fayla came in, bearing a blindingly polished silver tea tray.   
  
"I'm so glad you could make it, Ms Granger. I'm quite excited   
about this latest assignment. An old wizard was taking a walk   
right as you please in the valley and stubbed his toe on the edge  
of this!"  
  
From his breast pocket Fayla produced a metal disk. He   
started to talk again, unaware that Hermione was reaching out to   
take the disk from him.   
  
"We've found this artefact - the one the wizard - a Mr Morris   
Decaley stumbled over. We're guessing that it's a power source of   
some sort. Now, we've called in an interpreter like I said in my   
letter. Her name is Meilin Xiaong. She works at the Museum of   
Chinese Wizarding History in Canton province, nice place. Have   
you been there?"  
  
Before Hermione could open her mouth, he continued.   
  
"She'll be making her way down later in the day. Initially, I   
thought I'd brief her before you met, but -"  
  
"Actually, I'm meeting with friends of mine later. Tomorrow   
would be just fine."  
  
Fayla's mouth shut and his eyebrows knitted together to   
create the effect of a furry grey caterpillar moving across his   
forehead. His stubby fingers fiddled with the tea tongs. He   
brightened suddenly, a false smile plastering itself across his  
features.   
  
"Yes! Yes, of course. We mustn't neglect our personal lives,   
after all." He began fussing with the tea, and handed Hermione a   
cup. "Tomorrow morning then?"  
  
Hermione nodded, immensely grateful that he had been brief   
this time. She nodded towards the disk. "May I see that?"  
  
Fayla nodded absently, then stood up abruptly. "I have some   
business to take care of. Will you be all right by yourself?"  
  
Hermione nodded and tested the weight of the artefact in her   
hand. It was a lot heavier than she would have thought. It was a   
dark green-brown with scratches all along its surface. Holding it   
up to the light, she turned it this way and that. Against the   
sunlight, she saw that the scratches were actually symbols etched   
into the metal. The symbols - Chinese characters by the look of   
them - ran around the disk in one continuous loop. Turning the   
disk around, Hermione saw more scratches, but couldn't make them   
out, even with the bright sunlight streaming through the window.   
She muttered a spell and tapped the disk with her wand. Nothing.   
  
She called out to Fayla.  
  
"Do you have a magnifying glass anywhere?"  
  
Fayla poked his head in. "Hmm?"  
  
Hermione held up the disk. "Do you have something I could get   
a closer look at this with? A magnifying glass, maybe?"  
  
"Oh! You can find one in my study. I'd like the disk to stay   
here, though."  
  
Hermione nodded and crossed the parlour into the hallway. At   
the end of the hall, she turned right and pushed open a heavy   
wooden door.   
  
Fayla's study, like the rest of his house, was a mix of   
highbrow and dime store kitsch. The paneling around the room was   
highly polished, the wood rich and dark. The furniture was made   
of a heavy, substantial kind of wood. One of the chairs facing   
Fayla's desk was high backed and claw footed with deep red   
velvet padding. Hermione thought it looked much like a king's   
royal seat, much out of proportion with the rest of the room,   
which was nearly buried in parchment. Mounds of parchment were   
stacked on the desk, along the floor, and on top of another chair   
in the corner of the room. On the walls were many pictures in   
frames of all shapes and sizes - wooden, plastic, metal. Hermione  
saw that some of the frames had no pictures in them at all - just  
small bits of parchment with reminders written on them. Others  
had nothing in them at all, just various colours in the   
background. Hermione stared at a blue and green background that   
kept spiraling before she shook her head and looked away,   
slightly dizzy.   
  
Hermione waded her way through the sea of parchment. She   
reached the desk and shoved the chair back, wincing as she heard   
parchment tear. She hoped it hadn't been all that important.   
Opening a drawer, she winced again as a pile of parchment   
shuddered on top of the desk. Really, just how did he live in   
this mess?  
  
After some searching, Hermione found what she was looking for.   
She lifted the artefact up and held the magnifying glass to it.   
She could see very little, so she used her wand ("Lumos!")  
to give herself some light. A thin beam of light illuminated the   
room. Finally, she could make out the writing on the disk.   
  
Unlike the other side of the disk, this side was not written   
in Chinese. Rather, it was written in English.  
  
"O Key which hides the forces of darkness..."  
  
She stopped. She remembered suddenly that the words on the   
disk may likely be an incantation, and it just wouldn't do to   
release a potential danger upon the wizarding world. She would   
need to conduct research, and that wouldn't be happening until   
tomorrow morning. She bit her lip and sighed impatiently.   
  
She took up the magnifying glass and read the rest of the   
incantation. She frowned and turned it around to the Chinese   
side. She fingered the lettering.   
  
"Something's missing," she muttered. Turning the disk back to   
the English side, she looked closely. Near the centre, the   
incantation cut off abruptly. A squiggly looking arrow followed.   
The Chinese side had had the arrow as well, meaning...  
  
Hermione stood up called out. "Mr Fayla?"   
  
The parchment on his desk quivered slightly.   
  
Impatient, Hermione pushed her chair back, ignoring the   
crunching noise of parchment being torn and scrunched against the   
wall. She opened the door and used the loudest possible voice she   
could without shouting.   
  
"Mr Fayla?"  
  
A moment later, Fayla shuffled around the corner, holding a   
rag in one hand and his silver tea tray in the other. He smelled   
strongly of polish, and Hermione squelched the urge to cough.   
"Yes, Ms Granger?"  
  
Hermione held up the disk. "Were there any other artefacts   
like this one found at the site?"  
  
Fayla frowned a moment, deep in thought. He shook his head   
slowly.   
  
"No, I don't think so. But you're welcome to check the   
registry. It's on my desk somewhere, there -"  
  
Hermione stared at him in disbelief but managed to get out   
politely "Where on your desk?"  
  
Fayla looked surprised at the question. "Well, right there   
on top of course. Not that hard to find, a rolled bit of   
parchment with -" He suddenly seemed to remember the state his   
study was in, for he flushed a bit and set the tea tray on a   
side table and pushed open the door.   
  
"Pardon me, I tend to forget there's a mess in there."  
  
Hermione had to restrain herself mightily, but managed to say   
nothing. She followed Fayla, who was prattling on about one   
thing or another and made occasional noises to reassure him that   
she was listening. Fayla reached his desk and started rooting   
through it. The pile that had been threatening to fall all the   
time Hermione had been in the study finally did, parchment   
cascading over Fayla's head and causing him to mumble something   
about needing to find suitable help in keeping his things   
in order.   
  
As Fayla straightened, a parchment floated to a stop at   
Hermione's feet. He looked chagrined.   
  
"Well, I don't know where it could have gone, really. It was   
right here this morning. Parchment can't just disappear - it's   
got to be here somewhere! Don't you worry, we'll find it sooner   
or later -"  
  
Hermione had had enough. She suddenly remembered why she   
seldom interacted with her boss face-to-face and vowed that this   
was the first and last time she visited his home.   
  
"I'm sure it will be found sooner or later. I'll return   
tomorrow, but I really must be going now, Mr Fayla. Thank you for   
the tea."  
  
Fayla nodded at her, beaming. "Very well, then. Tomorrow.   
I'll find the registry for you by then." Then he fell to his   
knees, digging through the mounds of parchment. She just hoped he   
wouldn't come across the ones in the vicinity of his chair   
anytime soon.   
  
As she closed the door of the study behind her, she heard a   
muted crash and peeped back in. More parchment was now flying in   
every direction. Fayla was stamping about, trying to catch them   
in midair and treading on the ones littering the floor.   
  
Hermione made a small clucking sound. Closing the door firmly   
behind her, she walked down the hallway and out of the house,   
stepping over the fallen poker. She got her wand out of her robes  
and waved it once.   
  
A second later, she was back inside her kitchen. The window   
creaked. Hermione raised her wand and shut it. She then pointed  
to a drawer.  
  
"Accio quill!"  
  
The drawer shot open and a quill came zooming into Hermione's   
outstretched hand. She dipped it into a bottle of ink and wrote:  
  
1. Attend to the garden - gnomes.   
2. Fix creaking window.  
3. Find Mr Fayla decent house help.  
  
***  
  
Diagon Alley was teeming with people in robes of every colour   
doing their shopping. Stores lined both sides of the cobbled   
stone streets. To her right, Hermione spotted something in a   
barrel that looked like slimy grey worms with thousands of red   
legs. A sign over it proclaimed, "Centiwyrms - 20 sickles an   
ounce - bargain!"  
  
Hermione walked briskly along the street, until she heard a   
voice calling her name.   
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Turning around, she saw none other than Harry Potter, waving.   
A large grin was on his face, and he carried several bags in his   
hands. "Hermione! It's good to see you!"  
  
Hermione grinned back. "It's good to see you too, Harry. How   
are you?"  
  
Harry shrugged, the grin still in place. "I'm good. Been   
shopping." He raised his bags in front of him slightly. Across   
one of them "Flourish & Blotts" was scrawled in scarlet letters.   
The letters were charmed to sparkle. Occasionally, a shooting   
star would underline the store name.   
  
"I was on my way to Florean Fortescue's right now. Shall we?"   
He gestured with his bag laden arm down the street.   
  
They walked leisurely down the street, catching up on old   
news. Harry was talking about playing with the Falmouth Falcons,   
one of England's best Quidditch teams. He gesturing animatedly,   
the contents of his bags making clunking noises as his arms waved   
wildly to illustrate what he was saying.   
  
"I really think we have a shot at the World Cup this year,   
Hermione. We've got this brilliant new Beater - she's got a   
really strong arm on her - she knocks Bludgers back sixty feet   
easy."  
  
Hermione's mouth lifted a bit. "That is impressive."  
  
"Impressive?" Harry's eyes were round as saucers now, almost   
to the point where his glasses couldn't contain them. "The   
average Beater hits about a fraction as hard as she does,   
Hermione! Nobody'll know what hit them!"  
  
Hermione laughed. It was nice to see Harry so relaxed and   
open. After the war with Voldemort, Harry had been withdrawn and   
quiet, keeping mostly to himself. It had worried Hermione and Ron   
for a long time; every night he would come home and go straight   
to his room, not reappearing until the next morning. And then, he   
seldom said anything.   
  
Finally, Ron had insisted that Harry needed to get some fresh   
air and dragged him to a local pub for a "boys night out". At   
four o'clock in the morning, Ron and Harry had returned, drunk as   
lords and laughing like hyenas.   
  
Harry, inebriated to the point where he had to be held up by   
Ron, had announced that he was going to try out for a national   
Quidditch team before letting out an almighty belch and falling   
unconscious.   
  
At the time, Hermione hadn't been amused and had scolded Ron   
for getting Harry drunk, but it had turned out to be good for   
him. Harry's passion when he was younger had been Quidditch,   
although he hadn't been able to play much of it during the war,   
for fear of being struck out the sky by Voldemort or his   
supporters. Now with the Death Eaters gone, Harry was free to fly   
again, and as nothing made him happier, Hermione was all for it.   
  
They approached Florean Fortescue's and took a table at the   
patio to wait for Ron. Harry spoke.   
  
"So what have you been doing for an entire month? You wouldn't   
say when you left."  
  
Hermione fixed a look on Harry. "You know that some of my work   
is classified, Harry. I wasn't allowed to tell you then, and I'm   
certainly not allowed to tell you now."  
  
Harry held up his hands placatingly. "All right, you don't   
have to tell me. Let's change the subject, shall we?"  
  
Hermione nodded briskly. Harry looked amused, but kept to his   
promise.   
  
"So are you going stay home long, or does your boss have you   
gallivanting off somewhere else in a few days?"  
  
He was being lighthearted, but Hermione had to suppress a   
frustrated sigh. She liked her work, but it took her away from   
Britain almost half the year. She rarely got to see her friends   
and family, and she missed them terribly every day that she was   
out working in the field.   
  
"Actually," she said slowly. "I'm supposed to start working   
tomorrow."  
  
She could see the expression on Harry's face and quickly   
added, "My assignment is in Scotland this time."  
  
Harry's face broke into a grin. "Hey, that's great! We can   
always drop by and drag you to the Burrow!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Access to any magical   
archaeological site -"  
  
"Is strictly regulated. I know," Harry answered, still   
grinning. "Ron will be happy about this. He's always complaining   
that you don't come home often enough."  
  
"I don't see why he should," she said evenly. "He's got his   
fiancée to look after him, doesn't he?"  
  
An uncomfortable silence followed in which Harry fiddled with   
a napkin and Hermione stared down at the table before Harry spoke   
again.  
  
"Why don't we order? Ron'll turn up soon, I'm sure. And   
besides, I'm hungry."  
  
Harry stood up to enter the shop and came back a minute later   
carrying three oversized menus. Hermione unrolled hers and   
skimmed down the list. "I'll have the Blue Sundae special," she   
decided, and put her menu down. Harry skimmed his for a few   
minutes, then nodded. "Chocolate for me."   
  
Instantly, their menus were whisked away by a Return charm and   
a moment later, two bowls of ice cream appeared on the table. One   
was dark blue with round chocolate covered sweets adorning the   
surface. At first Hermione had been delighted with the ice cream   
merely because the candies reminded her of Smarties, a Muggle   
sweet. But to her surprise, the Smartie-sweets reappeared over   
the surface of ice cream that one had just eaten. The other was a   
plain chocolate ice cream in a bowl, with the added benefit of   
being totally calorie free (Hermione had, of course, experimented  
thoroughly).   
  
Hermione seized her bowl and dug in, eagerly. She closed her   
eyes as the first bit of Blue Sundae melted in her mouth. She   
had missed this.   
  
They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Harry   
spoke again. "So, this assignment in Scotland. Are you allowed to   
tell us what it is?"  
  
Hermione leaned back in her chair and thought. Fayla hadn't   
said anything about this particular assignment... But that didn't   
mean he wanted her to speak openly about her work with anyone   
else, she reminded herself firmly. She shook her head.   
  
"Aw, come on, Hermione. Just a hint? I promise I won't tell a   
soul." He raised his hand over his heart and made a cross.   
  
A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Hermione's lips. At   
length, she spoke. "I'm not sure yet just what I'm looking at,   
but I think.. I think we've discovered a new power source."  
  
Harry shook his head. "A power source?"  
  
"Yes, a magical power source. If what I'm thinking is correct,   
then this source would allow a witch or wizard to use magic   
without the aid of a wand."  
  
A small crease took form between Harry's eyebrows. "Is that   
even possible?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Only a wizard's power is unfocused then. It's   
potentially dangerous."  
  
She said this in such earnest, deadly serious tones that Harry   
had to smile. "Of course," he said simply.  
  
Hermione changed the subject. "I wonder what's taking Ron so   
long."  
  
Harry nodded to something above her head. At the same moment,   
Hermione felt two strong hands grip her shoulders. She turned   
around in her seat.   
  
Ron Weasley stood behind her, grinning. "Hermione. Good to see   
you." Hermione stood up and they hugged briefly, before letting   
go of one another. Ron slipped into a seat at the table, his long  
legs bumping against the chair across from him.   
  
"How are you?" Hermione asked.   
  
Ron shrugged easily. "All's quiet for the most part," he   
answered. "There was a warlock in Devon who was charged with   
stealing his neighbours whirligigs - those plastic windmill   
things Muggles stick in their front gardens." He chuckled.   
"Enchanted them to fly and sold them to Muggle children."  
  
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed. She opened it   
again and said, "Why would he have wanted to do that?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Muggle baiting, though he claims otherwise."   
He sighed a little. "Got into loads of trouble with various   
departments at the Ministry. As it stands, he's being heavily   
fined, guarded and one step away from being thrown into Azkaban."  
  
Azkaban was the wizarding prison, set on an island somewhere   
north of Scotland. Hermione shivered. Harry looked distinctly   
uncomfortable as well, and looked at Hermione.  
  
"So, will you be able to take some time out from work to come   
to the Burrow next week?"  
  
Ron fixed his gaze on her, and Hermione avoided his eyes,   
choosing to look straight at Harry instead. "Yes, I suppose I   
will," she said with as much calm as she could inject into her   
voice. "Of course, this new assignment will likely keep me very   
busy, but I'll try to make the time and come down."  
  
"Good." Ron spoke up in place of Harry. "We'll look forward to   
seeing you there. Ginny's been asking about you. She hasn't seen   
you in a while."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I know. It has been too long." She smiled at   
the prospect of seeing her friend again. "Yes, I think I will be   
able to make it. Mark me down," she told Ron brightly.  
  
He beamed at her. "No problem. And you can stop by any time   
before that, if you want. We all miss you."  
  
Hermione smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I've missed   
you all, too."  
  
Ron ordered his ice cream (strawberries and sherbet) and they   
fell into a comfortable banter that lasted until Ron announced   
that he had to return to work and Harry declared that   
he had Quidditch practice. They all stood up. Hermione hugged   
Harry and Ron one more time, and smiled. "Next week, then."  
  
Both men nodded affably at her, and Hermione set her money   
down on the table. With a final wave at them both, she got her   
wand out and Disapparated.   
  
She appeared inside her kitchen again. The faint sound of the   
clock ticking was the only noise in the room. Sighing, she sank   
deeply into a chair. A visit. To the Burrow. She laid her head   
upon the cool tabletop and breathed slowly out.   
  
"When am I ever going to let this go?" she spoke to the empty   
room, despair making her voice crack.  
  
Nobody answered.   
  
***  
  
The next morning dawned cold and grey. Hermione woke and   
quickly reached for her dressing gown, shivering. Glancing at her   
bedside clock, she was that it was 5:30.   
  
Padding downstairs, Hermione blinked wearily at the dim light   
coming through the curtains. She waved her wand in the direction   
of the coffee pot and instantly perked up at the smell of strong   
liquid brew. The soft bubbling noise it made comforted her, and   
she began preparing breakfast.   
  
An hour later, Hermione was wide awake and ready to head down   
to the site to see what she could make of that disk she'd seen   
last night, when a soft tap came at her window. A tawny owl and   
the same barn owl from yesterday. Fayla's owl.  
  
Hermione quickly opened the window. It creaked open, and   
Hermione bent down to a drawer underneath the counter. She came   
up again with "Mrs Skower's All Purpose Magical Household   
Solution" just as the owls took places on their perch and stuck   
their legs out in unison.   
  
She put the container of solution down on the counter and   
relieved the tawny owl first, then Fayla's owl. The tawny gave a   
hoot and spread its wings. Hermione felt a rush of air as it took   
off out the open window.   
  
Hermione looked curiously at Fayla's owl. "You're staying  
for breakfast, are you? Well, while you're here, would you like   
some bacon rinds?"   
  
She pointed to the plate of bacon sitting on her table. The   
owl merely stared at her, and finally gave a stuffy sounding   
hoot. Hermione just raised her eyebrows and went to the kitchen   
table, opening Fayla's note. It was short (comparatively   
speaking) and asked Hermione to come to the site (directions were   
written in great detail) at 7 o'clock sharp. He and Meilin Xiaong   
would be there.   
  
"P.S. Please keep the details of this assignment to yourself."   
Hermione read aloud. She looked over to the owl. "What, does he   
expect me to answer to that?"  
  
The owl hooted an affirmative. Hermione sighed.  
  
After inking a response to Fayla, she looked at the kitchen   
clock, whose hand was on, "Get dressed right this minute!"  
  
At 7 o'clock on the dot, Hermione arrived on site. Fayla was   
waiting there, with a willowy woman with short hair and clear   
brown eyes. She wore crisp grey work robes, which contrasted   
sharply with Fayla's choice of clothing - deep velvet purple   
robes with an aquamarine tam. Both wore black cloaks to ward off   
the morning chill.   
  
Hermione gathered her own cloak more tightly around her with   
her left hand and extended her right as Fayla made   
introductions. He handed both women a copy of the registry he had   
been looking for yesterday and departed with a faint popping   
noise.  
  
After an odd moment, Meilin Xiaong spoke briskly. "I think we   
should get to business. Mr Fayla has told you about the   
artefact?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I took a look at it yesterday. The   
writing on it seems to be an incantation of some sort."  
  
Xiaong nodded once. "I agree." She reached inside   
her robes and withdrew the disk. "Mr Fayla has lent it to me for   
our use. Hopefully we will be able to find a clue as to what the   
incantation is used for."  
  
Hermione nodded and looked around. Equipment was lying in a   
neat pile a few feet away; tents, perimeter markers and other   
provisions. "Who else is coming?" she asked.  
  
"I do not know," Xiaong answered. Her gaze flickered from the   
equipment, then to Hermione, and finally to the horizon. "Mr   
Fayla said that he had selected a team and that they would be   
arriving shortly."  
  
A faint pop, and a tall, sandy haired appeared between the two   
women. He spotted Hermione.   
  
"This the dig team for the Chinese artefact?"  
  
"Yes it is. Who else is -"  
  
Before Hermione could finish the sentence, a series of pops   
filled the air as other members of the team began appearing in   
the valley. Hermione closed her mouth.   
  
After the last person had Apparated in the valley, Hermione   
called them all to order.   
  
"I'm glad you all could make it. Is that all of you?"   
  
The witches and wizards all looked at one another. The sandy   
haired man counted them all. "Yes, that's all of us."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Good. I suppose Mr Fayla let you all know   
the specifics of the assignment?"   
  
Several heads bobbed around the valley.   
  
"Let's get to work, then."  
  
In a matter of seconds, the valley was filled with purposeful   
chatter as they began setting up, grabbing markers and mapping   
where they would dig. Hermione grabbed a tent and began pulling   
it out of its casing. When she had got it out, it made a loud   
popping noise.   
  
Hermione stepped back and crossed her arms, inspecting the   
tent. A peek inside showed her a three room setup: an office,   
sleeping quarters and a small bathroom. Satisfied, Hermione   
stepped out and watched as the team stuck perimeters in the   
ground. Over in the northwest corner of the field they had begun   
digging. Hermione called to the sandy haired man.  
  
The man looked up from a map he was consulting and spoke in   
low tones to the group around him before ambling easily over to   
Hermione.   
  
"You're in charge of all this for a while, all right?" She   
gestured to the work going on around them.   
  
The man, Ross Collins looked around and nodded. "Sure thing.   
And if we find anything -?"  
  
"Give me a shout, then."  
  
He nodded, grinning, and ambled back over to his group.   
Hermione looked across the valley and spotted Xiaong across the   
way, flipping through a small notebook. She was making notes, her   
quill scratching deftly across the parchment. Something glinted   
in the light, and Hermione narrowed her eyes a bit before   
recognizing the disk. She strode purposefully over.  
  
Xiaong was so absorbed in analyzing the disk that she didn't   
notice Hermione until she cleared her throat. Xiaong looked   
sharply up at Hermione, then nodded curtly. "This artefact is   
interesting. I have not seen one like it for such a long time."  
  
Excited, Hermione spoke. "You mean you've seen something like   
this before?"  
  
Xiaong nodded, making a few more notations in her book before   
closing it and looking straight at Hermione. "This is an old -   
very ancient - power source. There are very few of them that   
exist anymore," she said softly. Her eyes were wistful. She came   
back to herself with an instant snap. "However, only one part of   
the incantation is written on this disk. I think there is another   
part to it. Maybe not another disk, but something that will give   
us an idea of what this is and how to unlock the spell."  
  
Hermione looked at the disk. "If there's something to unlock,"   
she said. She didn't like the idea of trying to run through the   
spell without knowing what it was.   
  
Xiaong looked at her for a moment, before conceding evenly,   
"If there is something to lock, granted, Ms Granger."  
  
"Hermione. Please call me Hermione," Hermione said.   
  
A nod. "Very well." She looked out over the dig. "It would be  
most interesting to find a settlement here. I hope that somewhere  
within it we can find the key to this artefact."  
  
An absent nod from Hermione. "Yes, so do I." She nodded at   
Xiaong and went to join the team. Truth be told, she wanted to   
find the key to the artefact as well, and it would probably be   
found a lot faster if she pitched in. She spoke with Collins and   
staked out a spot on the map. Grabbing a perimeter marker and her   
wand, she set out.   
  
The lunch hour came with the clear chiming of an enchanted   
bell. Hermione sighed with relief and wiped sweat from the back   
of her neck. She stood up and grimaced at the twinge she felt in   
her back. Looking down at the hole she'd dug, she made a face at   
it. Five hours of digging had yielded nothing but dirt and a few   
unusually large worms. She lifted her shovel blade end up and it  
turned back into her wand.   
  
Massaging the cricks from her neck as she walked, Hermione   
came to the south end where most of the tents were set up. A long   
white table had been magicked nearby. Every surface of it was   
covered with food: roast beef slices, sandwiches, several stews,   
puddings, lamb and pumpkin juice were among a few of the things   
laid out. Hermione grabbed a plate and began filling it   
gratefully. She found a fairly large stone and perched atop it.   
  
She had just moved her spoon to her lips when she saw a snow   
white owl circling the sky, as if looking for someone. It seemed   
to find what it was looking for and began its descent. It was a   
moment before Hermione realized that the owl was coming in her   
direction. Several heads turned to watch the owl. Hermione   
quickly put her plate down.   
  
"Hedwig!"  
  
The owl in question hooted. Hermione saw a note attached to   
her leg and untied it. She gestured to her plate. "Would you like   
some beef?"  
  
Hedwig hooted in acknowledgment and bent down to capture a   
slice in her beak. Hermione unfolded her message and read aloud.  
  
Hermione,  
  
It's me, Ginny. I'm using Harry's owl - he's staying at the   
Burrow with us for a while. I'm glad to hear that you've made it   
back home! How are you? Things at home have been peaceful - Mum's   
been teaching me how to cook a few things. They're turning out   
pretty good, and I'll be helping her next week for the reunion.   
Ron told me that you're coming. That's great! We can catch up.   
There's so much that's happened this last month, but I don't want   
to tell you in a letter.   
  
Harry told me that you were in Scotland on another assignment.   
It's great that you're closer to home, but don't overdo it. I'm   
going to be in Hogsmeade in a couple of days, we could meet   
before the reunion, if you want. Let me know what you think.  
  
Ginny  
  
Hermione folded the note and bit her lip. It seemed that   
everybody wanted her to come to the Burrow. She held back a tinge   
of unfounded irritation. But Ginny seemed to understand her   
reluctance in coming. She had mentioned that she wanted to tell   
Hermione something, and that it would be nice if she could come   
to the Burrow; but by the same token, she had also given Hermione   
a chance not to go by coming to Hogsmeade, where she could just   
as easily give Hermione whatever news she had then.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed sharply as a deep well of  
frustration passed over her. This shouldn't be as hard as she was   
making it. She and Ron were old news - he had a new life now -   
*she* had a new life now. But though her mind could accept this   
relatively well on the best of days, her heart never could. She   
tried to shove the images of their last argument from her mind,   
but they came unbidden.   
  
It had been a chilly October night at the house she, Harry and   
Ron shared in London. She and Ron had been having another   
argument - not unusual, as the two couldn't go a week without   
fighting. Hermione secretly suspected that Ron purposely picked   
some of those fights with her simply because he enjoyed seeing   
her mad. This time however, there was none of the   
lightheartedness and warmth that flowed underneath the surface of   
their arguments. The atmosphere in the room was as hard and cold   
as stone.   
  
The argument they were having had been rehashed in one form or   
another for a long time now: Ron had been upset that Hermione had   
been spending far too much time away from home and had made one   
of his snide comments when she had told him and Harry that she   
was going for more training.   
  
"Yeah, as if seven years at Hogwarts and three years of   
'special training' -" Here he had made air quotes with his   
fingers, irking Hermione even more. "-isn't enough. Now you want   
to go and dig up ruddy rune stones or something like that. What's   
the matter? Life here with me too boring, is it?"  
  
Hermione had bristled. "You know that isn't it at all, Ron.   
This is my career we're talking about. I can't just sit   
at home all day and wait for you to come home," she snapped.   
  
Ron's eyes had narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Hermione repressed a sigh and looked him straight in the eye.   
"It means I have a life too, Ron." She bit her lip. "I know we've   
both been busy, we've barely had any time alone with each other.   
But Ron, it takes two."  
  
He stood still, an expression on his face that Hermione   
couldn't read - and that frightened her.   
  
Finally, he spoke, his voice the quietest it had been all   
night. "Well, Hermione, I can't spend all my life waiting,   
either."  
  
And that had been that. It had gone utterly still for   
Hermione. Time seemed to have taken a holiday, and she was sure   
she could hear passing molecules in the air. Several days later,   
Hermione had moved from the flat in London to take up   
apprenticeship with Deucalion McAfrides, a prominent name in the   
field of magical archaeology. She had shipped off immediately   
after that to study runes in Mexico and hadn't looked back.  
  
Well, for the most part. At least, she would have liked to   
think she hadn't.  
  
She jerked suddenly from her reverie, aware that Hedwig was   
still waiting for a response. She quickly penned her answer and   
sent the owl off just as a bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.   
Hermione flicked her wand at her uneaten stew and brushed herself   
off. She had a job to do now. She'd have time to consider other   
things later.   
  
***  
  
Authors Notes: There are some things I'd like to say about this fic.   
  
First of all, I was inspired to write this because I'm obsessed with Cardcaptor Sakura. I'm one of those people that spends days - nay, weeks - daydreaming about the different turns an episode could have taken. One day I found myself thinking about what would happen if CCS were to cross over with Harry Potter. While the idea of Sakura and company fighting baddies with the Triumphant Trio galled me, my twisted mind thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to make Hermione a Cardcaptor.   
  
Hermione is a character often neglected in fandom. Well, comparatively speaking. If you put her against Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape or good ol' Harry, they'd win hands down, no questions asked. I wanted to write about Hermione in her own element for a while, which is why I chose to delay romance in this story. There are some things she's going to have to get over before she can move on.   
  
Finally, I'd like to note that I did no research for this story whatsoever beyond a light skimming of CCS translations (thanks to Rabi's episode translations: (http://oldcrows.net/~rabi/CCS)). As JK from SugarQuill pointed out, my archaeological scenes are very twiddly: there *is* a lot more work that goes into it than what I've written there. There are bound to be a number of inaccuracies here and there that I hope to correct along the way, but for now, what you see is what you get. 


	2. Hermione and The Continuing Search For

*******

**Cardcaptor**** Hermione (2/?)**

*******

Author: DarkAngel d_angel@fsmail.net

Date: Uploaded December 30, 2002. Originally written April 2002.

Category: Action/Adventure, Romance

Rating: PG-13. This may change later on.

Archive: R/H Archive. Other places, please ask.  

Spoilers: All four books, and come to think of it, the first CCS episode.

***

Disclaimers: The works of J.K. Rowling and CLAMP are not mine. If they were mine, I would be doing all manner of unseemly things to the characters – aren't you damned glad I don't have any permanent hold on them?

Summary: All that's in the first chapter. In this chapter, Hermione discovers the mysterious magical book and must decide what to do with it. 

***

**Episode 1, Chapter 2**

Night had fallen upon the clearing where Hermione's team had been digging. A low light illuminated Hermione's tent as she sat, recording the day's finds. There had been nothing of particular significance, at least nothing significant in relation to what she was looking for. 

As Hermione carefully placed the last fragment away and replaced her quill in its inkpot, her mind wandered. She wondered when she would at last find whatever it was she was looking for. Rudimentary scans of the site that evening had shown that the magical energy signature was still strong as ever, but apparently, they were no closer to finding it than when they had began.

A yawn told Hermione that it was about time to turn in. Waving her wand in the general direction of the light source, Hermione retired for the night.

At first, Hermione wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not. No sooner had she closed her eyes and opened them again when she found herself in a grand corridor. It was wood paneled, with rich red carpeting, high vaulted ceilings and large windows. On either side of the hall were soft lamps, suffusing the corridor with a warm light. 

A sudden noise down the far end of the hall made Hermione turn around. Just as she turned to find the source of the noise, she saw an indistinct shadow whip around a corner. Before she could really think about what she was doing, Hermione found herself running down the corridor in pursuit of the shadow.

She had just turned the corner when a strong wind came from behind her. The howling wind shoved her to the far end of the corridor, causing her feet to skid helplessly against the red carpet. Just as Hermione pulled out her wand, she saw the shadow enter a room at the very end of the corridor. The wind pushed her in with it, and quite suddenly, it stopped.

Hermione gingerly got to her feet, rubbing her backside, which she had landed none too gently on. Picking her wand up from the carpeted ground, she took in her new surroundings. 

This room was just as ornate as the corridor had been. It was large and spacious, with the same wood paneling and rich red carpet. The large windows and soft lights illuminated several paintings in which men and women and rolling landscapes were featured. At the end of the room nearest to her was a large stone fireplace with an even larger red armchair in front of it. 

Hermione couldn't see anybody in the chair, but she knew that someone was sitting in it all the same. She approached carefully, her wand still drawn. 

"Hello?"

No answer. Hermione crept a little closer and called out again. Still no answer. 

Hermione was now less than a foot away from the front of the chair. She leapt in front of the chair, fully expecting to see someone sitting there. She did see someone, but she couldn't for the life of her guess at who it might be. 

The figure was tall and masculine, of that much she was certain. It was little more than a dark vaporous form, though, so she could tell little else. 

The figure slowly reached out a ghostly hand, palm up. Hermione jerked away. The hand stopped, then slowly opened its fingers one by one. As each finger left the fist it had been confined in, it seemed to Hermione that a golden light within the hand got brighter and brighter. 

Finally the figure's hand lay palm open, and Hermione peered at what it was holding.

The light wasn't as bright as it had been a few seconds ago, but still shone brightly enough to illuminate the room. It floated into the air several inches and came to a stop in front of Hermione's face. 

_Take it, she heard a voice say. She hesitated a moment, then did as the voice directed._

The room disappeared in a wash of white and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the occupant of the chair was gone. She was in a dark library with the same wood paneling the corridor and the other room had had. There was a small pool of light from a lamp on a table. 

Hermione looked down at her hand. There was nothing there. She approached the table and saw a small book lying on the table. 

It was an ornate volume bound in red and trimmed with gold. The title read _The Clow. A picture of a winged lion decorated the cover. A golden clasp held the book shut. _

She ran her fingers over it, and nearly shrieked when the clasp popped open. Slowly, her fingers trembling, she lifted the cover of the book. 

The book did not have pages like a normal book did. Instead, a deck of cards lay inside, the same gold colour as the book. On the book flap were words that she could not quite make out. Hermione squinted, trying to read them, but they eluded her. She picked a card out of the book instead and turned it over. The back was red and gold, with a circle symbol drawn on it. 

Flipping the card back over, Hermione looked at the card closely. It depicted a giant bird with its wings spread out as if preparing for flight. The top of the card had a sun with a Chinese symbol in the centre of it. The bottom of the card was written in English, and Hermione squinted once more, trying to make out the words. 

A loud shrieking noise made her jump. When she looked up, she thought she was seeing things. 

A gigantic bird that could have easily dwarfed Hagrid turned in the air and made a loud screeching noise that caused the grass to bow low, and leaves to whip off their tree branches. As the bird turned back around, it craned its long neck down and spotted Hermione. It shrieked again, and this time, Hermione could have sworn that it was enraged. It changed course and began flying at Hermione. 

Hermione stood, petrified. She didn't know what to do – had there been a creature like this in _Fantastic Beasts? How would she -?_

She didn't have time to think any further. She ducked as the bird swooped over her. She could feel a strong gust as it beat its wings. She raised her head a little, and saw it making a turn in the air. It was coming back again! 

Picking herself up off the ground, Hermione began to run. She could hear the loud shriek behind her and the loud whooshing sound the bird's wings made as it came nearer. Suddenly she felt herself being picked up off the ground and realized that the air current from the bird's wing beats had lifted her off the ground. She shrieked as she rose some feet into the air, and squeezed her eyes shut at the down strokes of the wings brought her careering down towards the earth below. 

She hit the ground hard. She could feel a sharp pain that immediately numbed her head as she landed and fought to catch her breath. There was a shooting pain down her arm. Hermione sat up slowly, and her breath hitched in her throat.

Hermione jerked up, ignoring the pain. The bird would be on top of her soon if she didn't move – then she blinked. 

She was back in her tent now. The sounds of owls hooting and insects chirruping provided a peaceful nighttime soundtrack. She could make out the lumpy and indistinct shapes of her furniture, and the bed looming above her head. 

A dream. It had all been a dream. 

Shaking now, Hermione got to her feet. She felt around her bed and found her nightgown. Cinching the belt tightly around her waist, she fumbled for her wand. 

"_Lumos!"_

A soft light filled the tent, and Hermione went to her desk. Opening one of the drawers, she took out a small piece of parchment that she had received that evening from Fayla. On it was a note from him and etchings of the disk she had looked at in his office. 

She traced her finger around the circle on the paper and murmured to herself. "O key… which hides the powers of darkness…"

There was something about that dream that connected directly with what Hermione was doing here. The dream was a clue about the artefact she was looking for. She wasn't sure how she knew but she did. 

Her fingers tightened around the parchment. Another thought had entered her head. She was getting close. She could feel it… the dreams were guiding her, somehow. 

The morning of the fifth day dawned cold and grey. Hermione and her team had been working since early morning, and the weather had not improved one iota. Pitiless clouds rumbled, threatening rain. 

Hermione looked over one of the maps of the perimeter they had taken that morning, and scowled. She moved her wand over it again, trying for a different result than the one she had gotten previously, but the map remained the same. The same band of colours showed across the topographical surface, the darker red signifying the hidden artefact that should be here, but wasn't. She slammed the flat of her palm down on the drawing table. "What is going on here? We've been digging for days now and haven't found a thing!"

Collins looked sympathetically at her. "Hmm. It does seem to be rather evasive." 

Hermione snorted. "Evasive. More like it's deliberately trying to hide…" 

She trailed off as a thought occurred to her. _Or there's something hiding it…_

"Collins, how much do you know about wards?" Hermione asked. Her mind was working furiously to remember all she'd learned about wards. People usually set them in place to protect a person or thing from danger, to keep intruders or threatening parties out of a certain area, or to keep things from discovery... 

"Wards?" Collins repeated. "Well, they're usually of a protective nature, aren't they?"

"Exactly." Hermione was getting excited now. She bounced several times on the balls of her feet. "Collins, could you do me a favour?"

"Sure." He looked positively curious now. 

"Go to the Wizarding Library in Dover and bring me back every book you can find on wards – how they're created, how they can be dispelled, that sort of thing. I think I may have found a way to find our artefact."

Hermione watched Collins Disapparate before sticking her head out the tent flap. The clouds were still grey and threatening. She stuck her head back in and sat down at her desk. She turned the parchment bearing the inscription from the disk over in her hands slowly, then picked up a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment. 

Collins returned late that evening, announcing his arrival with a loud thump and stumbling headlong into Hermione's desk. The rattling and rustling of upset materials that followed and the groan from Collins distracted Hermione from the polishing of a set of brass scales. She peered over the top of her desk. "Collins? Is that you?"

He groaned again and began picking himself up off the ground. "Yeah, it's me. I brought back every book I could find – I think literally every book I can find." He gestured at the haphazard pile of books which even now were sliding across the floor in a trail from her fireplace. 

"You brought the whole library with you?" It was a figurative question of course, but the books were still sliding freely out of the fireplace with no sign that they were going to stop. "How many did you take out?" Some of the books bumped up against Collins, creating a fair sized mound. The rest were happily creating an ocean across Hermione's floor. 

Collins looked chagrined. "Perhaps too many?"

Hermione stared at him. Collins actually blushed. "I think there must've been about a thousand books on the subject, and any one of them could have had the information we needed."

She decided not to comment on that and resignedly pulled out her wand. 

After the books had been squeezed onto various shelves, nooks and crannies, Hermione looked at her disheveled colleague. "Thank you, Collins."

He grinned boyishly at her. "You know, you can call me Ross, Ms. Granger."

Hermione smiled back. "All right, Ross. Then you can call me Hermione. Now, I think you should get something to eat. You didn't eat all the time you were in the library, did you?" 

Ross shook his head. "No, I didn't. I suppose I should get to doing that. Are you going to need any help with those books tomorrow, Hermione? I think I can lend a hand."

"Maybe, but I think I'll be fine. Thank you, Ross."

"No problem." He waved jauntily and left. Hermione looked at the collection he had brought back for her to examine and heaved a great sigh. She supposed she should get started; this collection would take quite a bit of time to go through, and the sooner she found the key to unlocking the ward, the better. 

She picked up a faded green volume and opened it. It made the creaking sound of old leather and a small bit of the paper came loose and fluttered to the ground. She winced. What had happened to the preserving charms? She supposed they must have come undone from the rough passage through the Floo Network. Madam Pince would not be in the least happy if these books had been in her keeping. Hermione smiled a little at the thought of the irritable Hogwarts librarian. 

After leafing through half a dozen books or so, Hermione decided that a more organized search might be in order. She set up a few keywords, then waved her wand at a stack of books propped up against her desk. The book at the very top of the stack flew into the air, whipped open, pages riffling quickly before slamming shut and falling to her desk. The next book on top began doing the same thing. In five minutes she had searched through the entire pile of books, and she pointed her wand at the next stack.

Eventually, Hermione had a smaller collection of books she could search through. Waving her wand at the large pile of books on her desk, Hermione replaced them back into the shelves and open spaces and satisfied, turned to the smaller pile of books neatly stacked on top of the chair at her desk. She picked up a solid brown volume. Suddenly she yawned. 

Hermione looked at the clock. It was quite late. Had she really spent three hours sorting through all those books? She replaced the book and walked to her bed. Tomorrow, then, first thing she would do was look through the books for a clue on how to undo the ward. Perhaps then she would find that elusive something she was looking for. 

***

**Author's ****Notes: This chapter moved rather faster than the first, and I apologize for the bumpiness. This is the result of me trying to escape the mental roadblock that had been plaguing me for months by running right over it. As a result, scenes move quickly, my writing is crappier, and I'm overall not too pleased with this chapter. However, now that it's out of the way, I'm determined to make a fresh start. Hopefully things will be smoother sailing from here. **


	3. Hermione and The Visit To The Burrow

**The Boy That Never Was**

Light stung Hermione's eyes, and she shifted in her bed, trying to bury her face under the covers. However the light persisted, and Hermione was forced to open her eyes. _Is it morning already? _She wondered. Opening her eyes, Hermione blinked against the dazzling light that filled the small space of the tent. 

But something was amiss. For one thing, she couldn't hear birds chirping. For another, this light was far too bright to be natural daylight. She sat up in bed and nearly screamed. 

Sitting at the foot of her bed, a bright sunny smile plastered on his face, was a young boy. 

Hermione tried to say something, but her voice seized and died in her throat. The boy seemed not to notice and stuck out his right hand. "My name is Eriol Hiiragizawa. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw that this wasn't a young boy at all, but a young man in his early to mid-twenties. His haircut and slightly large glasses, in addition to the completely innocent expression on his face had fooled her. He was dressed in robes of black lined with blue. A ridiculously large hat was perched on his head along with an equally ridiculously sunny smile. 

Warily, Hermione set a foot out of bed. "Who are you?"

The sunny smile never wavered. If anything, it grew wider. "I already told you that. Eriol Hiiragizawa." 

"I mean what are you doing here in my tent at -" She groped for her alarm clock. "4:30 in the morning?"

Eriol didn't look put out in the slightest. "I could always come back at a more convenient time if you'd like."

Hermione glared. "That isn't the point. I want to know just what you think you're doing, sneaking into my tent. This is an archaeological site and it's off limits to non-personnel. How you even got through the security barriers is beyond me."

Eriol shrugged. "Those barriers do not apply to me." Before Hermione could say anything, he continued. "I am just an apparition. You'll find me gone when you wake up."

Hermione looked at her intruder warily. "So what is it that you want from me?"

Eriol smiled again, that damnably sunny smile. He practically chirped when he spoke. "I do not require anything from you, Hermione. Actually, I'm here to help you." 

"Help me?" 

Eriol nodded. "Yes. You've been spending the past several days here, looking for an artefact. I can help you find it much more quickly, if you'd like." He pointed to the small pile of books on Hermione's desk. "You've made a fair amount of progress in your search," he continued. "However, it may be weeks before you find what you're looking for."

His eyes fixed on Hermione's. "I can tell you exactly where to look so you won't have to waste your time."

She eyed him warily. "Why are you doing this?"

Eriol's eyes darkened, and his face became indescribably blank. "It's my duty, and we are all bound by our duties, Hermione. And besides…"

He seemed to be staring past Hermione at something. Hermione turned around, but saw nothing. She returned her gaze to Eriol, who had returned to smiling with all the brightness of a supernova. He was holding something in his hands, and he held it up for Hermione to see. 

"This book." He said. "This book will tell you all you need to know." He put it back down on the desk. 

He stood up then. "And if you are the right one, Hermione, I will be seeing you again." 

And without any further ado, he left. 

For several moments, Hermione sat on the very end of her bed, staring at the vacant space where Eriol had been. Then she very deliberately brought her hands to her eyes and rubbed hard at them. When she was finished, she looked at her clock. It was still 4:30. 

She contemplated going to sleep again, then resignedly came to the conclusion that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon, so she may as well get a head start in going through the books. 

She had just come upon her desk and was picking up the first volume in the pile when she remembered the vision she had just had. If it was just a figment of her imagination, or a result of her overworked and duly overstressed brain, it was a rather specific hallucination she had just had. And she had been having those strange dreams lately… 

Having reached an unspoken decision, Hermione put the book down and riffled through the pile for the book Eriol had indicated to her. It was a fairly slim volume, at least when compared with the giant tomes that were its companions. The cover was embossed with scrolling gold text. _Wards for the Workaday Witch or Wizard: A Guide to Protecting Precious Articles from Pugnacious Poachers _by Mercurius Quistquire. 

Carefully opening the book, Hermione ran a finger down the table of contents. "Wards defined, the makings of a ward, simple one-step wards…" After paging through the book carefully, she tensed. She read the first few lines of the page. 

_One of the more cleverly designed wards is the __Key Holder's Ward. Requiring a key so that the protected item(s) may revealed, to date, no other methods have been found of tearing down this type of ward. These wards will last for up to 600 years, although with proper care and maintenance, they may last for longer periods of time. Due to the complexity and nature of the ward, very few of them are successfully put into place. There have been confirmed reports of these wards in __China__ and __Great Britain__. _

China and Great Britain. A Chinese wizarding artefact in Great Britain. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but somehow… Hermione read on.

_The keys that open the wards can be any object and have sometimes even been known to be incantations. The inconspicuous and innocuous nature of these keys has left all confirmed wards except for one in __Canton__ province, __China__, untouched and unopened. _

Hermione bit her lip. Meilin was from Canton, which meant that she would know about this type of ward. Perhaps she would be able to give Hermione insight into how to open the ward, now that she knew what type it was. 

Excited, Hermione dashed out of her tent and scanned the grounds. She found Meilin sitting off to one side of the site, writing in the notebook that seemed her constant companion. As Hermione got closer, she saw that Meilin had the disk Fayla had lent her in her lap. The Chinese woman tapped her quill against it, muttered something, then turned the disk over before muttering again. 

After a minute of this, Hermione cleared her throat. Meilin jumped and fumbled quickly as the disk started to slide down her lap. "Ms Granger!"

"Sorry for startling you, Meilin. Is everything all right?" Hermione offered. Over the past few days, she had gotten the distinct impression that Meilin Xiaong didn't like her. It wasn't anything she said or did, but she was always distant, cool and a little too polite than was necessary. She also seemed to furtively glance around the site, and when she found Hermione looking back at her on several occasions, quickly looked away and immediately whipped out her notebook, scribbling furiously. 

It was almost as if she had something to hide. 

"Everything is all right," Meilin said. She looked at Hermione. "Is there anything you require?" 

 "You work primarily in Canton, right? I think Mr Fayla mentioned it."

Meilin nodded curtly. "I do."

"Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I just recently thought of something that may be getting in the way of our search, and sent Collins off to the library to look into things for me," Hermione said. 

"I'm thinking that a ward may be preventing us from finding anything, and so I did a little digging and found a ward that you may be familiar with."

Meilin raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Hermione continued. "Yes. It's called a Key Holder's Ward and can only be unlocked with a key. The book didn't say what kind of objects can be used as keys, just that the keys were inconspicuous. That could mean that anything from a shoe to a leaky cauldron. Apparently a similar ward had been dismantled in Canton, and I was wondering if you knew about the key used to unlock it."

Meilin looked somewhat surprised. "Do you think similar keys may be used for these wards?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just wondering if you know what the key was." 

Meilin shrugged. "As I recall, it was an artefact of some sort."

Something in Hermione's mind clicked. "An artefact?"

"Yes. It was very old. A coin or a mirror. I cannot remember, exactly."

"Do you remember anything else about the case? Who the warder was? What was being protected?"

"I think the wizard was a trader. Reports disagree as to what his exact occupation was, but there were old records of transactions that he had completed. He traveled quite extensively, from what I understand." Meilin shook her head. "I think you can find them at the National Chinese Wizarding Registry in Beijing." 

Hermione nodded. "Are the records only available there? No copies have been made or archived elsewhere? For safekeeping, perhaps?" 

Meilin shrugged. "I am not aware of any other existing copies, but perhaps that is a question best addressed to the curator."

Hermione nodded, more to herself then to Meilin. "Thank you, Meilin," she said. She turned around and began walking back to her tent, thinking. She wouldn't know anything further until she wrote to the person in charge of the registry, and then she'd have to wait. There was nothing else for it. 

Within a few days, an owl came winging in over the site, and Hermione was just in time intercepting it. She had packed a couple of bags in preparation for her stay at the Burrow, and was just stepping outside to give Collins his instructions while she was gone when she heard a loud screeching noise. 

A large brown owl was swooping down and landed right on top of Hermione's shoulder. It made a clicking noise with its beak and screeched again. Hermione winced. 

"Hello, and who are you from?" She held out her arm, which the owl hopped onto and stopped. The owl stuck out its leg, which was weighed down with a fairly substantial looking package. The rope binding the package had slipped off the other leg, which meant that the owl had been carrying the weight of the package on one side. She knew what the irritable screeching had been about. 

"Oh, you poor thing. Did you have to carry that very far?" Hermione had finished untying the string and held the package aloft. As was customary with wizard post, there was no return address. There was, however, a stamp in the upper left corner featuring a five point star and a Chinese character. 

"You didn't have to carry this all the way from China, did you? They did change owls periodically at the post offices, didn't they?" As she said this, her expression grew grim. Perhaps when she got back, she'd have to look into starting a campaign for the well-being of post owls. 

The owl just eyed her warily and ruffled its feathers. 

Hermione slit apart the opening of the package. Inside was a brief note from the curator, and a thick sheaf of parchment. She took out the note and read.

_Ms Granger:_

_                 Enclosed are copies of the documents which you have requested. We understand that you have a Chinese interpreter on site, and would ask that you employ her in translating these articles. Please do not use a Translation Spell on the documents; they yield all manner of inaccurate results and may result in a misunderstanding of the documents. If you require any further assistance, please contact me. _

_Charlie Wu,_

_Curator_

_National Chinese Wizarding Registry_

Hermione folded the note and tucked it back into the envelope. Hefting the package, she moved to Collins's tent. 

Within half an hour, she was standing before the fireplace in her tent, her bags at her side and a pinch of Floo Powder in her hand. She dashed the powder in and stepped back as a large green flame whooshed into existence before her. Picking up her bags, she stepped in, ducking her head so she wouldn't hit it on the mantle. 

"The Burrow!" She yelled. 

She tucked her elbows in at her sides and hoped that her bags wouldn't encounter too much bumping and rough handling during transit. She closed her eyes almost immediately as a great swirl of colour flew before her eyes. Opening her eyes for too long inside the Floo always made her dizzy and slightly nauseous. 

Soon, she felt herself slowing, and she risked opening her eyes. The colours weren't rushing by as quickly, and after a few seconds, she was able to make out the different exits. Three grates ahead, she recognized the mismatched furniture and cozy bustle that was the Weasley kitchen and made a conscious effort to stop. 

She was right in front of the exit grate when she felt a jerk, and she was tumbling headfirst onto the floor. She flailed her hands before someone caught one of her arms. 

"Whoa, there! Almost had a rough landing there, didn't you?"

Whatever landing she may have had, her bags definitely did not have a smooth landing. They fell to the floor in an ungracious heap, and Hermione was sure she heard something break. 

"I'm fine, but my bags are -"

"Aw, it's okay, Hermione. I'm sure they're fine." 

Hermione looked up. "Ron?"

"The one and only," he grinned. He bent over to pick of one of her bags. "How long are you staying, anyway? It looks to me as if you've brought enough for a week."

Hermione shook her head. "Not that long. I had a lot of work to do so I thought I'd bring it with me."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you're here to relax. You know, that thing people do when they get away from work? You're not supposed to bring it with you!"

Hermione suppressed the urge to sniff and make a retort. She settled for smiling instead. 

"Actually, I'm looking forward to spending time with everyone. Has Harry been here this entire time?"

Ron nodded as he climbed the rickety, winding staircase. "Yeah. He's not going to go back for another week. The team's not going to have another game for a month, and Harry goes to practices and comes home here. Mum's really happy about that – it makes the house seem full again."

It probably would, Hermione thought. A few years after graduating, Percy had found a place of his own to share with Penelope Clearwater. Fred and George had moved to a small space above their shop in Hogsmeade, and Ginny spent much of her time between London and France. Ron had stayed in the house he, Harry and Hermione had first bought after they had graduated. Having Harry around gave Mrs Weasley a chance to mother someone again, if only for a brief little while. Hermione smiled at the thought. 

"Are Bill and Charlie here as well?" Hermione asked. She knew that the two eldest Weasley sons rarely came home due to the nature of their work. 

"Yeah, sort of," Ron said, opening the door to Ginny's old room and shouldering his way in. "Bill was here for a bit then took off – there's an emergency in Egypt, apparently, and the goblins wanted him back there straight away. Charlie's been in and out for the last few days. We don't know what he's doing."

He put the bags down beside a small cot and straightened. 

"How's Sylvia?" Hermione asked.

"She's all right. Doing great, as a matter of fact."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, careful to keep her voice light.

"Yeah, she's got this new thing at -"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, however. 

"Ron?" A voice floated to them from downstairs. 

"In here, Sylvie," Ron called back. He grinned as a woman with short brown hair entered. She seemed to be fairly happy about something, as she skipped right into Ron's arms and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Hermione plastered a smile to her face and stared at a point beyond their heads. 

"Ron, honey, we're almost ready to start. Has everybody arrived?" Sylvia asked. 

"Yeah. Our last guest arrived just now," he said, nudging his fiancée slightly and gesturing with a free hand. The other one seemed to be glued around Sylvia's waist. 

Sylvia turned around and made a surprised noise before giggling. "Oh, you scared me there, Hermione. How are you?" She broke free of Ron's grasp and pulled Hermione into an embrace. 

Hermione smiled. "Good, thanks. And you?"

"Couldn't be better," Sylvia said cheerfully. She backed away slightly to get a better look at Hermione. "Ooh, someone's got a tan. Where have you been lately?"

"I was in the Caribbean until just very recently," she said. 

"Lucky you. I wish we could say the same for ourselves, but the weather's been just awful here recently. You came on one of the few sunny days we've had in over week!" She shook her head. "I love England, but there's so much greyness to all of it." She laughed. "But I suppose I should be used to that, eh? I've certainly lived here long enough." 

Sylvia suddenly seemed to think of something, and she clapped her hands together. "That's right! I baked some cookies last night – they're my newest creation. Would you care to try some?"

"Right before dinner?" Hermione asked. Then again, she had to admit that Sylvia knew how cookies were done. She could very well make a living as a pastry chef if she so chose.

Sylvia shrugged. "Why not? A little aperitif before dinner never hurt anyone, right?"

Ron beamed and Hermione looked away quickly. Where Hermione wouldn't hear of having dessert before dinner, Sylvia was more easygoing about those kinds of things. It was just one of the many differences between herself and Sylvia, and the thought that Ron might like the differences Sylvia exemplified over Hermione's brought a sharp pain to Hermione's chest. Even after all this time, it pained as keenly as if it had been yesterday. 

"Sure, why not?" Hermione forced herself to say, hoping that Ron couldn't hear the slight change in her voice.

Sylvia beamed. "I'm sure you'll like them very much! I used a lot of Billywig treacle and honey for this recipe, so make sure you don't eat too many of them or you'll be having your dinner three feet above the rest of us." 

Ron chuckled. "That'd be a sight to see."

Hermione followed Sylvia and Ron back downstairs and into the Weasley kitchen, which was bustling with activity. Mrs Weasley looked up at them when they came in. 

"Ah, there you are, Ron. Could you take the roast out of the oven and make sure Fred and George are setting the table properly, dear?" She frowned as she mixed some sort of pasty concoction. "I don't want any surprises when we're eating dinner tonight."

As if on cue, they heard a loud metallic clattering sound followed by a small explosion. 

"Boys, behave yourselves! We've got company!" Mrs Weasley bellowed. 

There were twin affirmative sounds from the dining room, and it grew peaceful once more. 

Mrs Weasley shook her head and looked up. "Hermione, dear! How are you? We haven't seen you in a long time!" 

Hermione smiled and approached the matriarch of the Weasley clan. They embraced warmly, and Mrs Weasley stepped back, taking Hermione in.

"Well, dear, it looks as if the weather's been quite good to you. Where was it that you were working all these months?" 

Before she could answer, the door burst open and a voice called loudly. 

"Mum, I don't think I can carry all these potatoes!"

"Ron, go help Ginny," Mrs Weasley commanded. Ron, who had just set the roast on the counter, nodded and turned out of the kitchen. Hermione followed. 

A slender, willowy redheaded young woman was pulling a large canvas sack through the door with one hand. In her other hand was a basket of leeks, parsley bunches and wild cabbage leaves arrayed merrily in the wickerwork. Ron rushed to take the sack from her, while Hermione relieved Ginny of her basket. 

"Thanks," Ginny said breathlessly. "I forgot to bring my wand with me." She dusted herself off and looked up. Her face lit up delightedly. "Hermione!"

"Ginny." The two women hugged, and Ginny grinned. "It's good to have you home, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "It's good to be back. Did you get my letter?"

Ginny nodded. They walked into the kitchen, all three of them. Mrs Weasley had a large metal bowl set out on the counter. She took the potatoes from Ron, then pointed her wand at them. Hermione stepped back as the potatoes leapt from the sack in a stream and landed with vegetative thunks in the bowl. She felt a tugging on her hand.

"Come on," Ginny said. "We'll go outside to talk."

Hermione nodded, and the two left out the back door and into the garden. They bypassed Fred and George, who were duelling with knives and forks, and Bill and Charlie, who were sitting quietly at the table talking about something. Hermione looked around.

"Where's Percy?"

"He's coming a little late. He's trying to round Aurora up so they can come, but she's being a little difficult." She laughed. They sat on the tufty grass in a corner of the garden and sat for a few moments quietly. Finally Ginny spoke again. 

"It's a beautiful day."

The sun hung brightly in the midday sky. A soft breeze moved the grass and kept the day from being unbearably hot. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen, the light tinkle of utensils crashing against each other and songbirds chirruping to one another from the branches of various trees set Hermione in a peaceful state of mind. She nodded. "Yes. It is."

"Will you be staying long?"

"No. I have to return to the site tomorrow."

"Oh."

Across the way, George skilfully caught Fred's knife with his fork's tongs and sent his opponent's utensil flying across the yard to land with a clatter on the stones of the walkway. A shout came from inside the house, and the twins ran back into the house, still laughing.

"It's so peaceful here. I wish I had the chance to come more often," Hermione said. 

Ginny looked up.

"I mean, I haven't been home for a long time, and even when I do return, it's only for a short period of time before I'm called somewhere else," she said wistfully. "Sometimes I wish I had chosen a career that didn't involve me moving around so much, where I could settle down. Who knows what might have happened if that had been the case?"

Ginny's eyes widened, then she smiled a little. "Do you have any regrets, though?"

For a long time, Hermione said nothing. Finally, with a small exhalation of breath, she answered. 

"Sometimes there are regrets. Sometimes I wish I had handled things a little differently, with a little more foresight, but," she smiled, looking up at the cerulean sky, "there's very little of it I would do differently. There's no point in wishing I could either."

The rest of the evening passed quickly. The food was laid out onto the table, the family gathered, and the next few hours were filled with laughter, stories and full bellies. At night's end, Hermione was opening the door to let herself out. She had only walked a few steps when she heard a voice calling to her from the doorway. She turned around.

Ron was walking toward her, hands in his pockets, looking up at the black and starry sky. The night was pleasantly cool, and a soft breeze lifted the leaves in a gentle dance, and teased the strands on Ron's head. 

"I love nights like these," he commented. "It's peaceful – gives you time to think."

Hermione's gaze joined his in the heavens. "Yes, it does." She said. 

"It was nice seeing you again. We all missed you."

Hermione brought her head back down from the sky and looked at her old friend. She smiled. "I've missed you all, too."

Ron blinked, then looked away. "Do you think you'll be taking up another assignment after this one you're working on is finished?"

A shrug. "Maybe. I haven't decided yet."

"Oh."

Another small breeze picked up and the leaves rustled again. The lights from the house created soft rectangular pools which moths darted joyously in and out of. A moth flitted into one of the rectangles, darted forward and around its fellows, then quickly darted back out of the light. The sound of a loud bang followed by yelling and laughter from inside the house floated out to them.

"Sylvia tells me that you're planning a trip next week."

A surprised flicker crossed Ron's face. "Oh. Yeah. Her uncle's got a property up north a ways, and it's fairly close to the ocean."

"That should be relaxing."

"Yeah." He shoved his hands into his pockets again and looked down at the ground. 

"So… I guess I had better be going. I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"It was really nice seeing you again. Thank you for inviting me."

"Anytime."

"Well…" Hermione said. She struggled to find something to say, and in the end, settled on "Goodbye, Ron."

Ron's head came up at last. His mouth was partly open, as if he wanted to say something. Something flickered in his eyes, then went still again. He closed his mouth and nodded. "Bye, Hermione."

Hermione walked down the hill away from the Burrow. When she reached the gate, she looked up toward the house once more. 

Ron was no longer visible from the bottom of the hill, and the lights from the house were only visible from the upper levels. The familiar trees intermittently dotting the sides of the dirt path here and there and the long grass and the no doubt slumbering garden gnomes were exactly as they had been all those years ago, when she had first come here in the summers of her childhood. If she closed her eyes and listened to the breeze long enough, she could almost imagine that everything was exactly the same as it was all those years ago. That nothing had changed. 

But things had changed. And whether she liked it or not, whether she had regrets or not, there was nothing she could do to change that fact.

***

**Author's Notes:** Thankfully, it didn't take quite as long to finish this chapter, nor was it as great a labour to try and finish as the second chapter was. I don't know if I'll be able to put out the next chapter soon – university is a demanding master, and exam time is quickly approaching – but I'll try my best. Hermione will also find get started with the Clow Cards in the next chapter, so we can (finally!) get this show on the road. Other than that… 'til next time.


End file.
